Page 4

Chapter Four

T asha is mad at me, even more than she normally is after we fight. Of course, we usually disagree about going out on a weeknight or letting her borrow my favorite leather boots.

This time is different.

She’s more than mad. She’s hurt. And it feels a million times worse. I’d rather worry about her slashing my tires than not answering my texts or phone calls.

I finish sending the tenth message, promising to buy all her rounds when we bar hop next weekend. I’m staring at my words to her and the delivered notice—not even read—when Wyatt toes open his front door. His arms are loaded down with three cases of water, so I pull myself out of the comfort of his oversized beanbag and rush to help. As if he needs my muscles.

“Thanks. I’ve been driving around with these for a week,” he says, sliding two cases onto the counter then taking the third from me to stack on top.

I tug at the pocket of his hoodie and flatten my cheek against his chest as he turns into me. His arms wrap around me, and I take the first full breath I think I’ve had since Tasha stormed out of our apartment this morning and said, “Fine, I’ll let Whiskey move in. Anyone else you’d like me to offer room and board?”

“She’ll come around. She always does.” He presses a soft kiss on top of my head, and I snuggle into him harder.

“I know, but also, what if she doesn’t?” I tilt my head, pressing my chin into the center of his chest so I can look up at him. His eyes scan my face as he tucks the loose strands of hair behind my ear. My head hurts from the high ponytail I’ve been wearing since practice.

“At some point, Tasha is going to have to live with someone who isn’t you. I’m not planning on an open marriage that involves multiple wives. Although . . .”

Wyatt twists his lips and glances to the side, as if he’s intrigued. I wrap the strings of his hoodie around my fist and tug his attention back to my face, trying not to overreact to the fact that he just said the M word.

“I’m kidding,” he laughs out softly. His gaze sticks to me as he cradles my cheek with his right hand and strokes my skin with his thumb. I could stand here like this forever.

“I know Tasha needs to work on her independence. She knows it, too. But she’s never really had the support system that you and I have, and when she and I moved here together freshman year, it was like she finally had this solid family unit. Even when I’m gone with you, or traveling for a competition, she’s never totally alone. Hell, how many times is she our third wheel?”

Wyatt chuckles at my observation.

Tasha’s the daughter of a single mom who likes to work and live large, which usually meant she was jet-setting without her daughter. I’ve always thought that was at the root of most of my friend’s envelope pushing.

“I love how you love your friends,” Wyatt says, his touch slowly pulling the stress from my body.

My mouth slides into an easy smile as my cheeks warm from the praise. He leans in, his forehead resting on mine as the tips of our noses touch. I hum as I close my eyes.

“I love how you pay your friends to deal with my friends,” I jab. I gave Wyatt a little shit when he told me he offered to sweeten the roommate deal for Whiskey.

“Hey, I got him willing to box up a week early, which means you and I could have this place all to ourselves in a matter of days.” His right brow lifts with his very obvious innuendo.

“We’ve got it to ourselves now,” I say, my skin prickling with sudden interest in being touched on more than just my cheek.

“I might also love this new cheer uniform you’re rocking,” he says, his hand moving along my face to the back of my head, where he grips the base of my ponytail and gently tugs. I lift my chin until our lips touch, and his teeth nip at my bottom lip.

“We had the fitting today. I kept it on because I thought you might like it,” I say.

Wyatt always comments when I wear red. It’s the color of his favorite bikini that I wear, as well as his favorite sweater of mine, and dress. I should probably invest in red lingerie. I figured in the meantime, this tight red bodice with a short skirt that barely covers my ass would probably do the trick, and as my palm glides down the center of his chest to the waistband of his joggers, stopping at the tip of his swollen cock, my hunch is confirmed.

“Hi there,” I say, smiling against his lips as I let my hand sink into his pants and over his hot shaft.

Wyatt groans, grinning right back into my smile as his hands drop to my waist. He swivels me back a few steps until my ass hits the counter and he grinds his hard-on into my pelvis. I swallow as my breath hitches. The things Wyatt Stone can do on the football field are nothing compared to what he can do to me.

“Whiskey won’t be home for forty minutes,” he says, his hands gathering up the hem of my skirt as his short nails scratch against my bare hips.

“What if he’s early?” I back up a hair and lift a brow, at this moment not caring what Whiskey walks in on. I know I’d care after, though. I lick my bottom lip, then hold it hostage between my teeth.

“What if . . .” A coy smirk colors Wyatt’s expression as his eyes shift to the door, then back to me. “We both could keep watch.”

I tilt my head, not sure what he means. He snickers deviously as his hands swivel my body until my stomach is pressed against the counter’s edge and he pushes into me from behind.

“Oh,” I gasp at the feel of his palms on my bare ass.

“I guess that could work,” I say, though mentally, I’m kind of insisting on it. I stretch my palms forward and lower my chest to the counter, which pulls my skirt up high.

“Peyton, this definitely works,” Wyatt says, running his palms over my smooth skin, then lightly smacking my right ass cheek. I yelp, then giggle.

“I fucking cannot wait to live with you,” he says, shifting his body behind me until I feel the warm tip of his cock against my ass. I’ve been on birth control since the end of high school, which has made for many spontaneous moments. Surprisingly, we’ve never done this. My mind races to all the ways this counter is the perfect height.

My body warms as Wyatt leans over me, sliding my ponytail so he can kiss the back of my neck. He drags his mouth along the center seam of my uniform, between my shoulder blades, pulling the zipper down with it until the fabric parts. Fingertips trail down my spine until his palms move to the sides of my body and back to my hips as he lowers himself behind me. My ragged breath fogs the black granite countertop as I roll my head to the side, my eyes staring at the doorway that could open at any minute, though it probably won’t.

It's the could that excites me.

“These are cute,” Wyatt says as he hooks his fingers in the top of my bloomer shorts, rolling them down my hips and thighs until they fall down my legs to the floor. I kick them away as his hot breath warms the backs of my legs. I shiver at the feel of his cool lips against my bare skin.

“I’m glad you like the new uniform,” I whisper as he kisses his way up my left leg, coaxing me to spread wider as his mouth travels higher.

“It’s all right,” he teases, amusing himself. His soft laugh tickles against my skin just before I feel the tip of his tongue taste me. I nearly sink to my knees.

“Maybe better than all right,” he muses, again passing his tongue over my sensitive skin.

I whimper and bring my fist to my lips, biting my knuckle. I nearly come when his mouth covers me completely. He sucks hard, his tongue flicking my clit before he takes me right to the brink of orgasm and then pulls his mouth away. I lift my head from the counter in protest and glance over my shoulder, but before I utter a single word, he’s standing behind me, stroking his cock with one hand and grasping my hip with the other.

I slip my arms from my open bodice and push it to the side before lowering myself back against the counter, the cold granite a sweet shock to my hard nipples. Wyatt’s hand traces between my thighs, his fingers gliding along my wetness before he sinks two fingers inside. The welcome fullness makes me moan.

“Just wait until it’s my cock, Cheer Captain,” Wyatt says, pulling his hand away and leaving me exposed and desperate for him.

“Please,” I hum, knowing how he loves it when I beg. He likes to call me little pet names, too. Last week, it was Madame President because my sorority had elections.

“Stand up,” he commands, and my body quivers, knowing he’s standing behind me, looking at me, waiting to take me.

My palms flatten on the counter as I push up and stand, my eyes zeroed in on the doorknob, ready for it to twist. My ears are tuned for any sound that isn’t in this room.

“I’m going to fuck you like this every night when you live here,” Wyatt says at my ear.

I draw in a quick breath as his cock slides deep inside me from behind. When I begin to fall forward, he grips my hip to steady me as his free hand flattens on my tummy. I ache for more, threading my hand through his and coaxing it lower until he’s circling my clit with his fingers.

“Oh, that’s my girl,” he says, his teeth grazing the beaded skin at my neck. My tits shake as he pushes into me harder, his pace picking up as my cries grow louder.

Fuck, if Whiskey hears what’s happening in here and still decides to open that door, then he’s as big a pervert as I tease him for. But right now, I could not care less who hears or sees me being absolutely owned by Wyatt Stone.

I leave his hand on my pussy and grab both of my breasts, tugging at my own nipples to release the ache building in the hard pink skin.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Wyatt says, the scruff of three days of not shaving scratching my bare shoulder as he peers over me.

My head falls back against him as his hips work faster, his cock pushing in deeper with every thrust until the pressure between my legs becomes unbearable and I fall over the edge. Wyatt holds me to him as he continues to drive into me, riding the wave of my orgasm and drawing it out until I nearly pass out.

When the burst of warmth fills me, I lean forward and brace myself on the counter once again so Wyatt can fully release inside of me. His body covers mine as his hips pump slowly, every thrust matched by the flex of his cock in my pussy. We lie like this, connected, half-clothed, and covered in our own sweat and cum, for several minutes. The door never opens. And I can’t wait for this to be the thing we do every night.